


i'm staying by your side

by winterfire22



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Eddie Lives, Fix It Fic, M/M, Reddie, amputee eddie, and shit gets cute from there, and then they go in and visit eddie, basically the losers are hanging out in the hospital waiting room, he loses his arm like he does in the book, idk i feel like surviving that is more likely than surviving being like, mix of book cannon and movie cannon, r+e, skewered in the chest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 11:35:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20545502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterfire22/pseuds/winterfire22
Summary: aftermath; eddie makes it out alive.





	i'm staying by your side

_raw stones get broken every day_   
_fires get put out in their way_   
_but, oh, they couldn't stop me if they tried_   
_i'm staying by your side_

Richie watches Bev’s head lull against Ben’s shoulder and he smiles a little bit to himself. When he catches Ben’s eyes, he sees that Ben is smiling too. The exchanged glance unloads a whole pile of emotions, things Richie has been too stressed and too busy and too frantic to really think about or feel before now.

(god i’m so happy for them, they really deserve each other, i love them both so much and they’re such a perfect match, richie thinks-- but also he can’t help but imagine himself in ben’s position, except with a certain loud-mouthed dark-haired hypochondriac napping against his shoulder instead of bev-- but mostly, fuck, i just really need him to be okay, he has to be okay, he can go off and do whatever he wants and never speak to me again as long as i know he’s okay, people can live perfectly happy lives with only one arm right? sure they can, that 127 hours guy did just fine, and the girl with the surfing shark thing, and tons of other people probably, like war veterans and people who had car accidents and diabetics and people who got that one disease and even sometimes i think people are born with only one arm, he’ll be fine and if he needs someone to take care of him i)

“You okay, Rich?”

He turns to his other side. Bill has his arms crossed over his chest, and weariness sketched across his face, and for a second he kind of reminds Richie of his father. “Yeah,” he answers, taking his cracked glasses off to rub at his eyes. “I’m fuckin’ great. Never been better. The exhilaration that comes with icing a murderous demon clown is just unparalleled, you know? I could run a marathon right now. Fuck that, make it two marathons.”

Ben laughs a tiny bit. As Richie puts his glasses back on, he notices that there’s still a little bit of dirt hanging around in Ben’s hair. They’d all been filthy, of course, Bev especially, but they’d taken turns washing up in the little bathroom in the Derry hospital’s waiting room. Richie hadn’t wanted to. Hadn’t wanted to leave the room in case the nurse came out with news about Eddie while he was gone-- but the others had talked him into it, reminded him that he was covered in Eddie’s blood, so he’d relented. 

“Alright, who’s hungry?” Mike asks as he comes toward their clump of chairs. On the small table between Richie and Bill’s seats, he sets down a cardboard drink holder full of coffee cups and a paper bag of muffins. 

Richie doesn’t move. (think i might puke if i try to drink coffee or eat right now)

Mike’s voice had woken Beverly up, so she reaches for a coffee-- the rest of the guys do, too. After thanking Mike for going to get the food, they all start eating and drinking and chatting quietly. Richie stares at a crack in the floor tiles.

(okay i know i haven’t like done religious things since i was a kid or whatever, but, uh, god, if you’re listening, please take care of him okay just please let him make it, he has to make it, please let the nurse come out and tell me he’s doing great and i can go see him and)

Richie stops his silent prayer. Blinks at the floor.

(and nothing, that’s it, that’s all i need, just make sure he’s okay, i’ll do anything, okay thanks bro)

(...............what is wrong with you, tozier, don’t call god ‘bro’)

“Aren’t you hungry?” Ben asks Richie.

“Huh? No.” He shakes his head. “No way. Thanks though.” 

“Rich, he’s going to be fine,” Mike says, his voice carrying a stronger, updated version of the soft authority it had when he was thirteen.

“Yeah,” Richie repeats quietly. “He’ll be fine. He just bled a shit ton and lost an entire limb and got stabbed in the face and then got dragged through the sewers. He’ll be fine.”

His voice breaks. He’s tearing up. (fuck)

“Hey, they’re taking really good care of him,” Bev insists, taking Richie’s hand in hers. 

“Yeah,” Ben agrees from the other side of her. “We had a tourniquet on his shoulder and a compress against the wound. We did everything right. And we got him here as fast as we could. He’s going to be fine, Richie.”

“You should eat something,” Bill adds.

“I don’t want to fucking eat something,” Richie says harsher than he means to. The tears are really flowing now-- streaming down his face, onto his neck, onto the collar of his shirt. He takes his hand out of Bev’s and wipes the tears away, taking his glasses off again so he can hide his face in both his hands. “I don’t know if he’s-- I can’t just sit here and drink coffee when I don’t know how Eds is doing, okay?” He’s managed to edge the harshness out of his voice, leaving it shaky and small. With his hands against his face, he can feel his pulse in his forehead, and it’s slamming hard.

“The nurse said she’d let us know as soon as there was any news,” Mike reminds Richie, squeezing his shoulder. “He’s okay. If something bad had happened, they would have told us.”

(unless the something bad hasn’t happened yet, unless she’s on her way out here to tell us right now, unless--)

“Friends of Eddie Kaspbrak?” A friendly voice comes from the entrance of the waiting room.

Richie looks up immediately, shoving his glasses back on. He stands.

“You guys can come see him now if you’re quiet and calm,” she says. “He’s on a lot of medication and he might be a little delirious, but he’s awake and he said he wants to see you guys.”

“How’s he doing?” Mike asks as the rest of them stand and start to follow the nurse.

“He’s going to be fine.”

“Thank God,” Richie says under his breath. A fresh crop of tears blur his vision, but they’re for a different feeling-- relief. He wipes them away easily.

She leads them down a hallway and around a corner and leaves them to file into Eddie’s hospital room.

(it’s just like when we were thirteen and he broke his arm, richie remembers-- except his mom isn’t here to turn us away this time and instead of a broken arm it’s a, uh…………… _ gone _ arm)

“Hey guys,” Eddie says wearily from the bed. His face is pale, with a chunkier bandage over the wound Henry Bowers had awarded his cheek. His right shoulder is thoroughly bandaged, and his left arm has a tube in it, and there’s a heart rate monitor clipped onto his finger-- but he’s alive.

Richie wants to say something back, but he can’t. His throat is too swollen. He nudges past Bev to get a closer look, and as he does, he watches Eddie’s big brown eyes hazily find his own eyes.

“How are you doing, Eddie?” Bill asks.

“I think I could run a marathon if you give me a few minutes,” Eddie says.

Ben chuckles. “That’s what Richie just said.”

“Are they taking good care of you?” Beverly asks, reaching over to stroke Eddie’s hair off his forehead.

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t really have any past experience to compare it to, since I’ve never had to get, like, my empty shoulder socket stitched up before, but seems fine to me.” 

“I’m so glad you’re okay, man,” Mike says, leaning down to hug Eddie. As if Mike’s movement compelled the rest of them, they all fall into an awkward group hug, leaning over the hospital bed. As he leans in, Richie feels Eddie’s remaining hand rest on his forearm.

“We got It, right?” Eddie asks as the other five straighten up.

“Yeah,” Bev says. “We did. It’s dead.”

Sighing a little, Eddie closes his eyes for a second. He nods. “Good.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you, buddy,” Bill says. “In fact, I’m pretty sure we all would be dead under Neibolt if you hadn’t played the hero.”

“Thanks,” Eddie says. “We all did it together.”

“Yeah we did,” Richie pipes up. As if he’s only just finally believing Eddie will actually be okay, he feels himself smile, and something lifts off his chest. “We got It. We killed that motherfucking clown, you guys.”

“Hell yeah!” Ben punches Richie softly in the shoulder.

“Thanks for coming,” Eddie says. “I love you guys.”

“We love you too.” Beverly smiles.

“Yeah,” Mike agrees. Bill and Ben nod.

“I think I need to sleep soon, I feel real woozy-- and you guys should probably, like, shower,” Eddie adds. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” Ben agrees. “We’ll get out of here. But we’ll be back, right, guys?”

“Of course,” Bill seconds.

“Cool,” Eddie says. “See you.”

Everyone starts to file out-- first Bill, then Mike, then Ben and Beverly, their hands tangling together. Richie offers a final small smile to Eddie and starts to turn to leave too.

“Rich,” Eddie’s voice comes quietly. “Wait.”

“Yeah, Eds?” He asks, ambling closer to Eddie’s bed.

“Do you mind… will you just wait with me?” Eddie asks. “Until the nurse or whatever comes back to give me the stuff to make me sleep?”

“Yeah, of course, buddy.” Feeling a weird wash of gratitude, Richie sits down in the chair by the nightstand, resting his hand on the plastic railing around the hospital bed. He breathes normally for what feels like the first time since going down into the sewers beneath Derry.

A few moments of quiet pass between the two of them. The room is small, outdated, cramped-- and kind of a little bit cold, Richie thinks, but he figures Eddie is probably okay since he’s under a thick hospital blanket. It’s almost silent, save for the easy beeping of Eddie’s heart rate monitor, which is stuck onto his left ring finger.

(_his left ring finger, which is naked, which has an indent at its base where--_)

“Hey, Eds?” Richie asks.

“Mhm?”

“Your wedding ring… did they make you take it off or something?” 

“Oh,” Eddie says, glancing toward his finger, almost sheepish. “No. I… when we were in the sewer, you told me I was brave, and uh, you mentioned my wife, and I… I don’t know. I _felt_ brave when you said that. I didn’t really think about it. I just yanked it off and threw it as far as I could. Guess it’s still down there.”

Richie blinks, trying to do science in his head. “You threw it away?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh,” he says, nodding a few times. “Nice.”

Eddie’s hand reaches for Richie’s. He pulls it off the plastic railing and onto the mattress. Weaves their fingers together. Richie watches as if it’s a slow motion sequence in a movie, and his entire consciousness turns into an exposed nerve, his head swimming as he tries to wrap his mind around the fact that Eddie is holding his hand, _oh my god, he’s literally--_

Eddie’s eyes droop closed again. He leans back against the pillows. By an instinct Richie didn’t realize he had, he starts stroking Eddie’s hand with the pad of his thumb. He touches the knuckle of Eddie’s pointer finger, careful not to disturb the heart rate monitor. 

(in that moment all he wants is to use his grip on eddie’s hand to yank him out of the hospital bed, to lead him off, to get into a car and drive far far far away from derry and never look back)

“Rich?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks,” Eddie says, nearly whispering.

Richie looks around the room, as if it will explain the baseless gratitude to him. “For what?”

“Just thanks,” Eddie says.

Richie squeezes his hand gently. Strokes his thumb over Eddie’s pointer finger again. “My pleasure.”

There’s a knock at the door. It opens. “Are you guys about done?” The nurse asks nicely.

Wishing he didn’t have to, Richie lets go of Eddie’s hand and stands up. “Yeah. Thanks for letting us visit.”

“Of course,” she says, making her way toward the I.V. bag to check it.

“Take good care of him, okay?” Richie hears himself add.

“We will.”

“Are you going to… stay in Derry for a little bit?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re not getting rid of me that easily,” Richie affirms.

“I’ll text you,” Eddie suggests. “Fuck, no, I can’t text with one hand. Ha. I’ll call you.”

“Sounds good,” Richie says, grinning a little. He backs toward the door. Lets himself out of it.

When he makes it back into the waiting room, there’s no sign of Ben, Beverly, Mike, or Bill. So he goes outside, finds his car, and hops in. The sky is bright and clear, sun shining easily down over Derry, oblivious to the terrors that used to lurk beneath this average-looking American town. As he drives through a map of his childhood, Richie sees that life is going on as normal-- moms are playing in the park with their kids, people are walking dogs, cars are driving by and parking in front of houses and businesses. The only sign that anything bad even happened is the crumbled mess that used to be the old house on Neibolt Street.

Richie isn’t sure where exactly he means to go until he gets there.

The kissing bridge.

He slows down and parks his car sloppily off the side of the road. What he needs to do won’t take long, and it’s an empty part of town anyway.

He takes the keys out of the ignition. Opens the knife on his keychain multi-tool. Finds the twenty-seven-year-old carving he’d been looking for.

R + E

Smiling, he kneels down next to it. He mirrors the motions of a scared middle-schooler with a crush-- a kid who’d felt deeply, dreadfully alone, even though he had the six best friends anyone could ever ask for. A kid who had grown into a man who no longer had to feel that.

He carves the faded letters deeper.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!!  
if you liked this please leave a comment and kudos!!!   
tumblrs: pramcine (general) and golden-geese(always sunny + any fic talk)


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